


A Grey Dawn Breaking

by Lovespie (Snarryeyes)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Pining, Star Trek Beyond Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Lovespie
Summary: Jim and Spock are both feeling lost. Can they find what they need in each other?
This is basically the Star Trek Beyond movie, but from a Spirk perspective. There will be some scenes from the movie, with maybe some minor alterations, but also my interpretation of what happened in-between.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about writing something to do with STB for a while, and then I saw a post on Tumblr about how awkward that turbolift scene was with Jim and Spock and what was really going on between them. And so this fic was born. :) The first chapter takes place a few days before the opening scene of the movie, but the rest will be within the movie timeline.
> 
> Many thanks to @itreallyisthelittlethings for her advice and @semperama for her beta skills. <333
> 
> The title comes from the poem by John Masefield: 
> 
> _All I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,_   
>  _And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,_   
>  _And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking._

Jim Kirk had spent many years flying by the seat of his pants. Before joining Starfleet, and even during his time at the academy, he had lived for the moment, always open to whatever—or whoever—life might lay at his door. 

Just over the halfway point in their five year mission in space, however, Jim had become very much a creature of habit. He rose at the same time every day, dressed in the same uniform, and walked the same route to the bridge. The end of his day was just as predictable. If it had been a slow shift, he’d go to the gym to give his body a work-out. If he needed a mental work-out, he’d challenge Spock to a game of chess. And if he needed to forget the day entirely, he could count on Bones and his stash of not entirely legal alcohol.

Lately, Jim had mostly been indulging in the latter. He was feeling increasingly disconnected from everything, even his crew. The bright optimism with which he’d started this mission had slowly been eroded by countless days of monotony and the uncompromising and unremitting constraint of Starfleet regulations. It felt as though he was sleepwalking through a dream with no end and no real purpose, always one question lingering in his mind; was this truly the right path for him?

That evening, for reasons unknown, Jim was feeling particularly adrift. Perhaps it was down to his upcoming birthday—although it felt like much more than that, like a final tether had been cut loose. But despite the very real temptation to join Bones and drown his sorrows, Jim had decided on a different course of action. The one person on the ship who had been even more withdrawn than himself of late was Spock, and Jim figured a game of chess in his quarters would give him the perfect opportunity to speak to him alone. Jim was, after all, responsible for his crew’s well-being, both physical and mental, and he took that responsibility seriously. But, more than that, Spock was one of his closest friends—someone who’d got him out of more scrapes than anyone else alive, with the possible exception of Bones. In all honesty, Jim’s feelings for his first officer ran a little deeper than he cared to examine. In any case, if he could help Spock in any way, he would. 

Still needing a drink, or several, he’d compromised by swiping a bottle of whisky from Sickbay on the way.

 

Jim studied Spock over the rim of his glass, watching the dark eyes sweep the board in preparation for his move. The only sound in the room was the occasional gentle chink of ice as Jim took a sip. It felt familiar, comforting even.

Evenings spent with Bones were seldom quiet; in fact, they usually became louder as more alcohol was consumed. And the conversation never waned. Spock’s company was the polar opposite, consisting of calm contemplation and comfortable silences. Jim had sought it out more and more over the years, as the stress of the job increased; he found it soothed him. He had become accustomed to Spock’s company when he needed it, but also his counsel. Logic and reason helped him where gut instinct and emotion failed. They made a good team, or at least Jim thought so. It was difficult to read Spock at the best of times, but even more so lately.

That brought Jim’s thoughts back around to why he’d invited Spock over. Despite the appearance of utmost concentration, it was clear that Spock’s mind wasn’t properly focused on the game. He had already made a string of uncharacteristic errors resulting in the loss of several important pieces. As things stood, Jim would have him within a few moves. Jim was surprised, to say the least; he had a good record when it came to beating Spock at chess, but it was rarely over so quickly. It only strengthened his resolve to find out what was bothering his first officer. 

Spock reached out to move his rook, prompting Jim to put his glass down and lean forward. He hummed, taking in the altered state of play before lifting his knight up to the next level of the board. When Spock responded by moving his bishop, Jim closed in for the kill with his queen.

“Checkmate.”

He was expecting to see at least a little surprise in Spock’s features, but Spock merely nodded to acknowledge that the game was over. 

Jim picked up his glass again. “Your heart really wasn’t in this, was it?

Spock blinked and met his gaze. “My heart,” he repeated, brow furrowing slightly.

“It’s a saying, Spock,” Jim said with the barest hint of a sigh, leaning back in his chair to down the remainder of his whisky. “What I mean is you seem preoccupied. In fact, you’ve been quieter than usual for a few weeks now.” His gaze swept Spock’s face, noting again the absence of any kind of reaction to his words. “If you need someone to talk to… I’m here.” 

“I do not believe that talking would resolve the situation.”

Jim hesitated, unsure how far to push, but he decided to at least broach the subject. “Is this about Uhura? I heard that you two broke up… I’m sorry.”

“No apology is necessary. It was a mutual decision.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed.” Spock abruptly rose from his chair. “If you will excuse me, Captain, I shall return to my quarters to meditate before I retire.”

“Spock.” Jim jumped to his feet and, without thinking, reached out to catch his hand. He only meant to prevent Spock from leaving, but standing so close, Jim heard the sharp inhale of breath and saw the way Spock’s eyes widened. In the moment, he’d forgotten that Vulcans were touch-telepaths. Cursing his stupidity, Jim snatched his hand away as though he’d been burned. He could only hope that he hadn’t let too much slip during those few seconds of contact, but he feared that the hope blossoming in his chest had been hard to miss. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“There was no discomfort to speak of. However I did sense that you, too, are perturbed.”

_Damn it_. “Yeah, well… that goes with being a starship captain, I guess.”

“Can I be of assistance?”

“I don’t think so, Spock. I just… ” He shook his head, giving the whole evening up as a bad idea. The last thing he wanted was burden Spock with his own troubles. “Never mind. I’ll let you go meditate.”

As he attempted to step back, he stumbled, and Spock was instantly there, long fingers closing around his upper arm to steady him. Jim’s heart skipped a beat as he found himself almost nose to nose with Spock, who showed no signs of removing his hand. 

“Jim…”

Gazing into the dark eyes locked with his, Jim felt like he was standing at the edge of a precipice. He didn’t know if Spock would catch him or not, but the numerous glasses of whisky in his belly made him bold enough to jump.

In one swift movement, Jim pressed his lips to Spock’s. It was messy and slightly off-target, and doubt and fear were already starting to set in. Then Spock shifted to align their mouths properly, lips parting, and Jim was lost. Any semblance of restraint utterly broken, Jim grabbed hold of Spock’s shirt and pulled him closer, and yes, that was even better. He felt a little dizzy now, alcohol and lust fogging his brain, but Spock was steady as a rock. And, fuck. Rolling his hips forward, Jim realized he was as hard as one too.

Later, Jim would both bless that bottle of whisky for providing Dutch courage and curse it for robbing him of so much of the experience. He didn’t remember undressing, only the feel of Spock’s cool body meeting the heat of his, the slow slide of skin on skin.

There was something almost familiar in the way their mouths and bodies fit together, something stirring in the depths of Jim’s mind that spoke of… home. But the intensity of his desire overrode everything else, a deep-seated need for closeness, for connection, for something to cling to in the vastness of space. And he thought he felt an echo of it in Spock as their minds brushed, the carefully constructed walls of logic and reason faltering in the throes of passion.

This unbridled Spock, driven by need and sensation, was nothing short of intoxicating. As was his strength. Jim had witnessed some of it before, on missions and the occasional workout, but that was nothing to the feeling of being pinned to the bed with what seemed like little effort and taken apart piece by piece. The bed may not survive the punishment, but Jim didn’t care a bit. He was floating higher and higher, so close. Then Spock’s fingers closed around him and everything became bright white as warmth flooded him from within. As the light faded and fatigue rushed in, Jim kissed Spock again. Then, with a sigh, he closed his eyes and succumbed to welcoming darkness.

When he woke up hours later, the peace he’d so fleetingly found was ripped away in one moment of agonizing realization. Spock was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait - I'm afraid I can't guarantee speedy updates with this story, but I'll do my best. Many thanks to @itreallyisthelittlethings and @semperama for their continued support and reassurance. <333

Draining his glass, Jim poured himself another and stared at the swirling amber liquid. It had been a couple of days since he’d slept with Spock and woken alone, and they’d been some of the toughest days he could remember. Spock was acting as if nothing had happened, reverting back to detached professionalism with apparent ease, and any attempt to talk about it with him had proved impossible. The only time he’d seen Spock was when he was on duty, surrounded by other crew members. The moment their shifts ended, Spock disappeared. If Jim didn’t know any better, he’d say Spock was avoiding him.

The door swished open and Bones entered the officer’s lounge, offering an apology along with something about Keenser’s dangerous bodily fluids, but it swiftly turned into a lecture about Jim’s choice of drink.

“My god man, are you trying to go blind? That stuff’s illegal!”

Jim was tempted to say he didn’t care what he was drinking as long as it helped him forget everything for a while, but that would only invite questions. When Bones produced a bottle of whisky that he’d pilfered from Chekov’s locker, Jim had to admit that looked a lot more promising. Bones had also deftly moved onto the subject of his birthday; he probably assumed it was the reason for Jim’s low mood, and Jim wasn’t going to correct him. A few short days ago, it would have been true. And it still played on his mind a little—at least the parts of his mind that weren’t consumed with thoughts of Spock. He tried to put all of that aside as Bones poured a generous amount into three glasses. It had become something of a tradition between them since their days at the academy, honoring his father’s death as well as his birth. There was a soft clink as they tipped their glasses to his in unison, then a second as they met each others.

After tasting the whisky, and voicing his appreciation, Jim’s thoughts settled back on his father. It was just like any other year, any other birthday, with one exception; this time he was officially surpassing his father’s lifespan.

“I’m one year older.”

“Yeah, that’s usually how it works.”

“A year older than he ever got to be.” Jim’s gaze stayed on his glass. “He joined Starfleet ‘cause he… he believed in it. I joined on a dare.”

Jim knew it was a feeble basis for a career choice, and a large part of him believed that he didn’t deserve the command he’d been given. He often wondered what his father would have gone on to accomplish if he’d lived. Ambassador Spock had told him that he’d known his father in the universe he’d come from, and that his father had been proud of his achievements in Starfleet. It wasn’t much, but it brought some small comfort. Still, he’d spent so long living in his father’s shadow that it was an unnerving thought to be stepping beyond it.

The memory of his encounter with Ambassador Spock brought his thoughts back around to the younger Spock, and with it all the churning emotions he’d been trying to ignore, so that he only caught the tail end of Bones’ response. Fortunately it was followed by another toast, which saved him from needing to reply.

“To perfect eyesight and a full head of hair.”

As they once again tipped their glasses together and drank, Jim’s communicator beeped. Quickly swallowing, he swiped it from the bar and opened it. “Kirk here.”

“Captain; approaching Yorktown base.”

“I’m on my way, Mr. Sulu.” Snapping his communicator shut, Jim swung around in his seat to get up. “Let’s keep this birthday thing under wraps, huh?”

“You know me; mister sensitive.”

 

The rest of the senior staff was already on the bridge when Jim stepped out of the turbolift, Bones a step behind. Everyone’s attention was on the viewscreen and the Yorktown, a base contained within its own protective sphere, and there seemed to be a great deal of admiration for its engineering, particularly from Scotty. Jim carefully avoided Spock’s gaze as he moved to stand in the center of the bridge, helpfully distracted the next moment by Bones loudly proclaiming the base a monstrosity. Standing between Bones and Spock as they loudly disagreed with each other felt familiar enough, but it did little to quell the unsettling feeling that things had changed, perhaps irrevocably.

Within minutes they had safely docked and Jim made a ship-wide announcement to the crew, telling them to enjoy their well-earned break. There were a few cheers from the bridge crew, the atmosphere changing from one of professional duty to excited anticipation in an instant as the mass exodus began. 

By the time Jim disembarked, having made some last minute checks that everything aboard the Enterprise was in order, Spock and Bones were nowhere to be seen. He paused as he entered the base, watching Sulu greet his husband and daughter. As happy as Jim was for his helmsman, the sight reinforced what was missing in his own life.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Scotty cheerfully making conversation. Struck by a wave of fondness for his chief engineer, Jim invited him for a drink. He tried his best to put on a cheerful face when Scotty told him he couldn’t—that he had a date—but his smile faded the moment Scotty turned away. Jim continued to stand there a moment as officers and civilians, human and alien, bustled past in every direction, everyone seemingly having somewhere to be. It was strange, he thought, to be surrounded by so many and feel so alone.

Finding no sign of Spock anywhere nearby, Jim headed to a bar by himself. There he nursed a string of drinks while several attractive individuals threw interested looks his way. It was comfortingly familiar and yet it left him feeling empty. A few years ago, he would have happily taken one or more of them to bed; now the thought barely even registered. What the hell was wrong with him? 

Unbidden, the fragment of a memory surfaced—the touch of cool fingers on his skin and a warm presence in his mind—and Jim squeezed his eyes shut, wanting simultaneously to hold onto it and banish it back to the depths of his subconscious. Okay, so he knew what was wrong with him. He just didn’t know how he was going to fix it or if that was even possible. Unfortunately there was only one person who could answer that question, and he wasn’t talking. 

Well, maybe Jim should _make_ him talk. Neither of them was on duty for the duration of their layover; it was the perfect opportunity to sort things out before their mission resumed. Several drinks in his belly were enough to fire up Jim’s determination to do just that. Ignoring a few disappointed glances thrown his way, he headed out of the bar to look for Spock. And this time, he wasn’t going to stop until he found him. 

At least, that was his plan. He hadn’t counted on Commodore Paris urgently summoning him to Headquarters.

 

It quickly became apparent that their stay would be drastically cut short, with the Enterprise and her crew needed for a rescue mission that no one else could undertake. Jim knew it was his duty, that it was an important mission that couldn’t be put off, but he couldn’t help but feel like the universe was set against him, deliberately throwing obstacles in his path. And not just his; he would have to gather the crew, cut short their well deserved and much needed shore leave. And of course it put an end to Jim’s plans to resolve the situation with Spock.

His mind lingering on that particular issue as he took his leave, Jim was somewhat thrown by the mention of his application for the vice-admiral position. He hadn’t planned to apply; it had been something that he’d heard about by chance. But the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d come to believe that it was the best course of action, until that night with Spock. Then he’d thought, maybe… but no. It seemed there wasn’t anything to stay for.

The admiral’s penetrating gaze was locked with his, and it felt a little as if she was staring right into his soul. “It isn’t uncommon, you know, even for a captain, to want to leave. There’s no relative direction in the vastness of space. There is only yourself, your ship, your crew. It’s easier than you think to get lost.”

Although the words resonated with him, more than he’d like to admit, Jim’s instinctive reaction was to deflect. “That’s not—“

“I’ll raise it with the general counsel. We’ll discuss it when you return.”

Jim nodded, understanding that he’d been dismissed. “Ma’am.”

 

Bones caught up with him as he was boarding the Enterprise, his customary scowl in place. “We’re leaving? We only just got here!”

“It’s a rescue mission, Bones, and we have the only ship that can get there.”

“Of course we do.”

“Can you make sure the med bay is ready for any casualties—we don’t know what we’ll find.”

As they parted ways, he heard Bones grumble, “Probably a whole heap of trouble!”

Heading into the nearest turbolift that would take him to the bridge, Jim’s steps faltered when he saw Spock was already in there. He recovered quickly to offer a polite greeting, but an awkward silence followed as they stood side by side. Jim was thinking about all the things he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Now was neither the time nor the place. Still, he needed to say something.

The silence was abruptly filled as they both started to speak at the same time, both stopping equally quickly to give way to the other.

“No, please,” Jim said, breaking the deadlock.

“Captain, after you,” Spock replied. “I insist.”

Jim chose his words carefully. “When this mission is over, we should… we should sit down. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“I as well have something to share.”

Jim was somewhat surprised to hear that, and maybe even a little hopeful. Was Spock finally ready to talk about what happened? Could there be something more between them? Or had Jim misread the situation entirely? No, he couldn’t afford to get ahead of himself. They had a mission to accomplish first… assuming their working relationship hadn’t been adversely affected. He glanced back at Spock, doubt clouding his mind.

“We make a good team… right?”

Spock seemed a little surprised by the question. “I believe we do.”

The instant confirmation eased Jim’s worries a little. He was on the point of saying something more when the turbolift doors swished open. Filing those thoughts and feelings away, he gestured for Spock to go onto the bridge first with a small smile. 

“I insist.”


End file.
